


ticket to ride

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Businessman Shiro, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Shiro's a bad liar, all of my writing is an ode to how hot shiro is, i hate commuting thats why it needs its own tag, mentions of commuting, oblivious keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Keith works at a ticket booth in the city’s central metro station. Shiro’s a businessman that’s absolutelyterribleat directions.





	ticket to ride

**Author's Note:**

> before season 4 makes me cry into my cereal pls have this fic

There are only forty seconds left until Keith can close down Stall #13 in the ticket booth and someone else gets assigned to it. Most of his colleagues linger for a few minutes after their shifts, helping out the last of the customers. Normally Keith does it as well, but he has been yelled at by eight different people for eight stupid problems in the past two hours alone and he is _done_ for the day. It’s only two in the afternoon.

He goes on his tip toes to grab the shutter and pull it down, when someone taps on the glass. Keith swears under his breath and gets ready to level the person with the sternest look possible as he pulls the shutter down in their face and– _whoa_. He comes face to face with one of the most handsome men he has possibly ever seen. He’s dressed in a clean pressed black business suit with the right sleeve neatly pinned to his shoulder, and is holding a matching black leather briefcase. He has a tuft of white hair and a scar across the bridge of his nose, but he looks young; perhaps only a few years older than Keith.

“Hey,” The man mouths, and Keith flips on the switch for the microphone he needs to speak through the glass of the booth.  The shutter is forgotten. 

“I’m really sorry,” The man says sheepishly, and Keith realizes that he still has his surly expression on. He tries to soften it into a smile, and watches the man wince. He doesn’t blame him, because sometimes when he has to emote too fast, his expression gets stuck somewhere in between and he looks like a cat who’s tail has just gotten stepped on.

 “Can I help you?” Keith asked, trying to squeeze politeness into his voice.

“Yeah, uh,” The man sets down his suitcase and digs into his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and slides it through the opening tray of the glass. “I’m not quite sure what subway line I take from the station to get here.”

He looks a little nervous, and Keith reads the address. He recognizes it as Altea Tech, where Pidge is going to start her internship in the new year. It’s one of the bigger buildings in the business district downtown.

“Interview?” He asks, and the man stares at Keith for a moment before replying.

“I look that nervous, huh?” He says and Keith gives a small chuckle.

“Don’t forget to wipe your face before you go in,” Keith teases. “I can see your forehead sweating through the glass.”

The man laughs and it is as gorgeous as the rest of him, and it definitely makes some of Keith’s tension go away. 

“You take the 8-line north to this station,” Keith says, grabbing a pen and writing it down neatly. “You would normally have to connect to another train but if you can, you should walk because it’s only ten minutes and that train is going to be way too crowded crowded on the way there. On the way back though, take that one as well.”

“Thanks,”  The man takes the paper as Keith slides it back. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job,” Keith replies but the man beams anyways.

“Hey,” Keith calls out, flipping on the microphone again. The man turned around, and Keith waved. “Good luck!”

The man grins and flashes him a thumbs up. As soon as he is out of sight Keith jumps to his feet and yanks down the shutters, just as another customer comes up.

* * *

 

Keith does not see the handsome stranger for the next few days. He is busy with school, so he doesn’t have much time to think about it, but during the hours when the station is relatively empty and no one is lined up, he half hopes that the handsome stranger will show up again and half resigns himself to never seeing him again. It happens all the time when he brushes by someone on the subway, or at the store, and he never thinks much of it, but this man’s face has been lingering in Keith’s mind for longer than usual.

So he’s a little startled when, during one of his evening shifts a week later, he comes face to face with the man again.

“I’d like to buy a metro pass,” The man says.

“So you landed the job?” Keith smiles. “Congratulations.”

The man looks surprised for a second.

“You remember?” He says, and Keith winces on the inside. It must have shown on his face, because the man immediately tries to assuage him. “No, I didn’t mean to sound creeped out, I meant I’m surprised you remembered me at all!”

“Yeah, well,” Keith shrugs. “Good memory, I guess.”

It’s a bit of a lie, because Keith had once run into a co-worker of four months at a Starbucks and had not even recognized him, much to said co-worker’s offense. But this man has a sturdy jawline and kind eyes that Keith could wax lyrical about, while Lance once told Keith he kind of looked like a chinchilla.

Keith slides a form and a pen through the tray in the booth window.  Normally he tells customers to step the side so that he can serve someone else while they fill out their forms, but he lets the man fill out the form in front of him while he tries his best to hide the fact that he’s staring.

He hears a “pssst” from beside him and sees Lance wriggle his eyebrows in a suggestive way while pointing to the glass. Keith frowns because Lance is in between customers, then realizes that Lance is actually talking about the man standing in front of Keith’s glass. Keith turns red and gives him the finger, before he hears a throat clear in front of him.

He curses internally, but his modus operandi is to always pretend whatever wrongdoing the customer sees never actually happened. 

“Sorry about the messiness,” the man said, sliding the form forward. It’s more legible than Keith’s chicken scratch ever hopes to be, and Keith starts inputting the information. 

“How much do you want to load on your pass?” Keith asks, and the man – Takashi Shirogane, according to the form – shrugs.

“Thirty?” He says, and Keith types it into the computer. He pays with his credit card, and Keith takes his time in writing out his name in neat block letters on the back of the metro pass. Normally the customers can do it themselves, but Keith likes to go above and beyond sometimes, say if the customer is too young or too old or too hot to leave without some fledging memory of Keith (until he loses the card, of course). 

“Here you go, Mr. Shirogane,” Keith presents the card to him.

 “Call me Shiro,” The man says casually, as he tucks his cards back into his wallet. “Uh, if we see each other again.”

“Okay,” Keith replies, blatantly ignoring that he has a nametag on. “You can call me Keith.”

Thankfully, Shiro takes mercy on him and doesn’t point it out. Instead, he says a “Thanks, Keith” with a toothy grin and Keith has to do his best to not sigh.

 

* * *

 

Shiro shows up _again_ the next day, and Keith can’t believe his stroke of good luck. He doesn’t even care that Shiro’s asking him a question that can _easily_ be answered by picking up one of the nifty little booklets at the side that contain the schedule and a small map.

 “I’m sorry,” Shiro says as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m not the best with directions— “

“Nothing to worry about,” Keith says around the highlighter cap he’s got clamped between his teeth. He highlights three different times on the train schedule, writing little helpful annotations beside each of them. He then highlights a route to one of the suburbs surrounding the city, and adds a little note indicating where Shiro can just walk and save the hassle of squeezing onto a busy bus.

Shiro beams at him and gives him an enthusiastic thanks. Keith melts a little.

Lance and Hunk tease Keith about it relentlessly at the end of their shift, but Keith ignores it all, and looks very happy with himself. 

Slowly, Shiro becomes a semi-regular fixture in Keith’s work day. Working at a ticket booth doesn’t exactly give Keith regulars— the station recently installed a machine where one can refill their own pass, and the website to do the same has become significantly simpler to use. Using a map on one’s phone is also a thing, but Keith is not about to point that out to Shiro, who seems to be lost every other time he comes to Keith’s booth.

Keith’s not quite sure what Shiro does, travelling to so many different vague suburbs and towns surrounding the city, so he figures that Shiro probably works as some sort of travelling salesman for the company.  It’s sort of funny, given that Shiro is absolutely horrendous at directions—at one point, he asks Keith how to get somewhere that is directly across from the train station.

Keith only gently ribs him about it.

He also discovers that Shiro has a terrible sense of humor on par with Keith’s. The amount of corny lines they trade are voluminous enough that he can hear Pidge groan every time she has to overhear them joking around about a funny street name or make a truly awful pun regarding the name of a train or subway line. 

Keith always takes his time with Shiro, despite normally being the first one to point the customer to a different resource. It’s not that Keith hates his job or really, hates people—he just hates being asked what a specific train time is when the display is _right there_. He hates being yelled at for not being able to delay a train, and he hates when a customer has their card locked for a minor offense and ends up trying to threaten his life.

He does not hate, however, any question Shiro brings to him, even if it’s asking the time of the next train.  At this point, Shiro can ask him to read out the entire day’s schedule for the longest train line, and Keith will not care.

Keith is not complaining one bit; Shiro radiates warmth, and has a smile that lingers in Keith’s head after long after his shift is over.

 

* * *

 

For the first time since Keith has met him, Shiro uses his right hand to slide his transit card through for Keith to load a balance onto.

“Hello,” Keith says to the hand. “You’re new.”

 “You like it?” Shiro asks, grinning wide as he clenches and unclenches the mechanical fingers. “Courtesy of work.”

“What kind of health benefits does your work have?” Keith says, leaning forward to get a better look through the glass. “I feel like I need to switch jobs.”

 “Benefits of working at a cutting edge tech company,” Shiro replies. “It’s highly functional.”

“I get a 10% discount on tickets and passes,” Keith sniffs, earning a chuckle from Shiro.  

He loads the balance onto the card and punches in the amount for the machine. After Shiro pays and Keith hands him the receipt, Shiro lingers for a moment at the booth.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Keith asks, hoping Shiro says yes. Shiro bites his lip.

“This is going to sound really stupid,” He says. “But want to see something cool? You’d have to step outside though.”

“That sounds kind of shady,” Keith says, frowning at Shiro before standing up. He finds his “COUNTER CLOSED” placard and puts it at the front before locking the cashbox. Pidge shoots him a questioning look and he grunts out a “break time” before he shuffles out of the booth quickly.

He meets Shiro at the front of the booth, and has to control his sharp intake of breath at meeting the man without a barrier in between.

“Nice to see you without the glass in between,” Shiro says, and Keith tries his best to maintain eye contact with Shiro and to not let his gaze wander.

“Likewise,” He returns, and that’s all he can muster for now because he’s too busy thinking about how Shiro seems taller outside of the booth, broader. Despite the fact that Shiro’s on his way back from a full work day, he still smells like fresh cologne. “So what am I looking at?”

Shiro puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and guides them to the side of the ticket booth. Keith visibly ignores his coworkers staring at him.

When they’re sectioned off from everyone else, Shiro shucks off his navy suit jacket and rolls up the sleeve of his white dress shirt. He holds out his prosthetic hand, palm flat and facing up. It looks like something straight out of a sci-fi show, and Keith takes a moment to marvel at it.  The palm is a stark white, while the fingers are carbon black.

“Look,” Shiro says, and Keith obeys.

Shiro’s eyebrows knit together in concentration, and the arm begins—it begins to _glow_. Keith goes a little wide eyed as it starts to emanate a faint pink light.

“Put your hand on it,” Shiro says, and Keith presses his palm to Shiro’s.

The hand is warm, warmer than the normal body temperature. It’s like holding a hot cup of coffee, and Keith can’t help but curl his fingers around Shiro’s palm, watching the pink reflect off his skin. Shiro smiles encouragingly, then his eyes widen. The hand suddenly turns scalding hot, causing Keith to yelp and yank his hand off.

Shiro swears and turns red, and the arm immediately goes back to its normal colour, the pink glow fading away.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, looking distraught and Keith does his best to wave him off. “I thought I had a little more control over it.”

“No worries,” Keith gives him a reassuring smile and raises his palm. It’s a little red, but no worse off than before. “See? It’s all okay.”

Shiro scratches the back of his head, still looking apologetic. Keith decides to sooth it a little.

“That was so _cool_ ,” He says earnestly. “Do you feel the heat?”

“No,” Shiro shakes his head. “I can only feel pressure. But one of the engineers at work discussed something about thermals or something.”

“Thermals or something,” Keith laughs. “Very scientific.”

“I try,” Shiro frowns. “I work in sales, okay?”

“Yeah?” Keith says, a little happy he was right about the salesman part. “What do you do?”

“Uh,” Shiro scratches the back of his head _again_ and Keith is pretty sure this is a nervous tic at this point. “Here.”

He digs around in the pocket of his suit jacket, and pulls out a business card. Keith takes it, and watches Shiro shuffle all of his stuff together and hoist up his briefcase.

“I gotta run,” Shiro says, and Keith gives him a short salute and Shiro shuffles off.  “But I’ll see you soon!”

“For sure,” Keith says to Shiro’s retreating figure, and flips over the card.

 

* * *

 

“How did you not recognize him?” Keith hisses for the tenth time, and Pidge heaves yet another large sigh and swivels around on her chair.

“Because, Keith,” She explains. “I’m going into _research and development_. I’ve only met the head of the department.”

“You’re friends with the CEO’s daughter!” Keith brandishes, and Pidge gives him a flat look. “You guys are classmates!”

“We have better things to discuss,” She says. “Things that aren’t related to who does the boring jobs at her father’s company.”

“That is decidedly not a boring job,” Keith gestures towards the screen of Pidge’s laptop, which is opened to the LinkedIn profile of Altea Tech’s Chief Financial Officer, one Takashi Shirogane.

They’re in the break room, their shift having ended five minutes ago. Keith had shepherded Pidge into the tiny room behind their booth, and shoved the business card in her hands. Pidge had the same bug-eyed reaction as he did, and dug into her backpack for her laptop so that they could do some e-research.

“Is so,” Pidge says, swivelling back to the screen. Keith hovers over her as she clicks through the profile. Shiro is a few years older, but young enough that his position at the company seems almost prodigal. Scrolling down his resume, Keith realizes that Shiro has accomplished approximately ten times more than Keith has even _thought_ about doing.

“How is he taking public transit?” Keith says, because if Shiro’s the CFO of one of the biggest tech companies on the coast, then Keith assumes he’s making decent enough money to not suffer public transit. Keith remembers that the first time he saw Shiro, he was running late for an interview- though, Keith doesn't recollect Shiro ever actually  _confirming_ he had an interview.

Keith knows that if he could choose driving over being crammed in a moving tin with a hundred other people, he will choose the former in a heartbeat.

“Out of love for our environment?” Pidge suggests and Keith shakes his head.

“I’m pretty sure he could live downtown if he wanted to,” he says. “He probably earns a lot.”

“Okay then. Maybe he likes your face,” Pidge shrugs. “We all have our flaws.”

“I hate you,” Keith says with no real heat.

“I can’t believe your crush is going to be one of my bosses,” Pidge mutters. “Right? I have no idea how corporate structures works.”

* * *

 

The next day, Shiro shows up again, this time to see if Keith’s hand really is okay. He looks nervous, and Keith knows it’s due to Keith now knowing that Shiro really doesn’t have to suffer on public transit, so he decides to nip it in the bud and address it immediately.

“Can’t you afford to just fly into work?” He asks Shiro.

“This is more environmentally friendly,” Shiro says, and Keith snorts.

“Your wish,” Keith says, and that’s that. Because really, it isn’t Keith’s business if someone wants to put themselves through the hassle of the subway willingly, even if he can’t understand it.

Shiro’s shoulders relax a little, and he gives a weary smile as he says, “Don’t worry. People at work give me a hard enough time for it.”

“I would too,” Keith says. Shiro makes him stick his hand up against the glass window so he can make sure that Keith didn’t actually get burnt, and his palms aren’t blistering from the fraction of a second that Keith held his overheating hand. Keith’s still grinning like an idiot when he leaves, and he can hear Pidge making a gagging noise from beside him. 

Shiro’s stops at Keith’s booth become less frequent, but Keith presumes that’s because by now, he has explained every single train and subway line possible to Shiro. Shiro still fills up his card at Keith’s booth, and Keith pines with his whole heart at the smile Shiro gives him every time.

However, it changes when Keith gets written up.

Keith does pride himself on having decent customer service skills. He may seem a little brief at times, but he does his best. Occasionally, he’ll get a dickbag that doesn’t understand that a ticket booth is not a concierge, and that there are some requests Keith just cannot fulfill.

Normally, that’s okay as well, but this morning, Keith’s roommate flooded their bathroom, he dropped coffee on one of his rental textbooks, and he was ten minutes late to work.  The last part is the most prominent, because his boss uses it as a launching pad to give Keith the dressing down of his life.

 The customer had asked to speak directly to the manager, had over-exaggerated the entire situation, and Iverson had predictably believed every single word. Keith had snapped back at both the customer and Iverson and had subsequently gotten written up.

The green sheet of paper sits on Keith’s desk, because he has to fill out the remedial behaviour section on the back. Keith is ready to set the paper, Iverson, and the booth on fire. His roommate texts him, saying he’s flooded the washroom again while taking the shower but could Keith take care of it because the roommate’s leaving for his parents’ place in thirty minutes and just _doesn’t_ have the time. Keith amends his earlier plans to include his roommate.

It’s with this attitude that he greets Shiro with a sour expression. It softens just a miniscule amount when he sees the familiar face, but Shiro can still tell there’s something wrong. He tries to make small talk with Keith as he slides him his card to fill up, and Keith just gives monosyllabic words and grunts in return. It’s not the politest thing, but Keith’s had a bad day so he figures that if he wants to act like a gorilla, no one is going to stop him. Not even Iverson.

He passes Shiro’s card back to him, and Shiro pauses, looking concerned.

“What?” Keith says, and Shiro frowns a little.

“I don’t know,” Shiro shrugs. “Just, your face looks…a little down.”

“This is how it always looks,” Keith says flatly. “Is there a problem with it?”

“No, no of course not, it’s gorgeous,” Shiro rushes out, then immediately clamps his mouth shut.

Keith opens his mouth in a small “oh”, at a loss for words. Shiro’s expression mirrors his, before he slowly starts to turn red.

“Uh, my train—” Shiro shoves his cards haphazardly into his pocket.  “Sorry, I gotta run, I uh- “

Before Keith can gather both his words and his jaw up off the floor, Shiro’s disappeared.

 

* * *

 

 

Initially, Keith goes home and sits on his couch, staring at the ceiling while he contemplates the fact that he exists in a world where a handsome business man called _him_ gorgeous. The next morning, he sees the text he sent Pidge, and the “ _he called you what now_ ” he had gotten in return, and confirms that yesterday was not just a fever dream. He resolves his mind to ask Shiro out on a date when he sees him next— maybe if he wants to get coffee, or juice, or whatever business-types liked to drink on their free time. However, Shiro puts a hamper in the plans by not showing up. Keith doesn’t see Shiro for two whole weeks afterwards, which is a shame because Keith’s head is positively swimming. 

He tells the others to keep an eye out, to no avail. Shiro’s probably decided to start filling his card online, or alternatively, has probably decided to start taking a car. It’s a shame, and Keith’s about to give it one more week before he takes drastic measures, such as pulling up Shiro’s professional work profile online and contacting him through his work email. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to.

It’s a slow afternoon, and he’s at one of the coffee stalls near the ticket booth, when his phone pings.

 _GUESS WHO I SEE_ reads Pidge’s text, and he almost drops his Americano.  He does a sprint back to the booth, keeping a keen eye out for Shiro. He can’t see the other man anywhere, but when he tumbles back into his booth, he sees a familiar white tuft of hair. Shiro is standing off to the corner, looking with great focus at one of the giant station maps.

A customer comes up to Keith, but he points to his “COUNTER CLOSED” placard, and they roll their eyes before shuffling over to Hunk. Keith taps on the glass, then realizes Shiro’s too far away to hear. Keith squints, and realizes that Shiro has been staring at the one section of map for an awfully long time without having moved.

He flips the switch on for the intercom. As it crackles to life, he takes no time to think of what to say.

“ _TAKASHI SHIROGANE,”_ he says, using the same loud voice he does when people leave their credit cards behind. Shiro startles and spins around, as do a couple of other people. “ _COULD TAKASHI SHIROGANE PLEASE SEE THE ATTENDANT AT BOOTH 13.”_

Shiro looks like a deer-in the headlights. He stares at Keith, and Keith tries to project a reassuring look fifty feet ahead as Pidge is trying her best not to lose it beside him. Keith waits fifteen seconds for Shiro, but the man doesn’t move. Keith clears his throat.

“ _TAKASHI SHIROGANE,”_ Keith’s voice booms over the PA. “ _COULD TAKASHI SHIROGANE_ PLEASE _SEE THE ATTENDANT AT BOOTH 13._ ”

Shiro finally kicks into action, rushing towards Keith’s booth, slightly flushed at having been called out so loudly and publicly. Keith feels no regret as Shiro approaches his booth.

“Hi,” Keith says, flicking off the switch for the intercom and turning on the one for his booth.

“Hey,” Shiro says. “Sorry I, ah, didn’t hear you the first time. What’s up?”

“It’s okay,” a smile curls across Keith’s face, and he leans forward a little. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

Keith tries to pour as much flirtatiousness into his voice as possible. He’s been told he doesn’t have much to begin with, but this time he figures it’ll work in his favour so that he doesn’t come off too strong.

“Yeah,” Shiro says sheepishly. “Sorry about that. It was…busy at work.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, and Shiro squirms slightly. “Find your way around okay though?”

“I guess,” Shiro replies, and Keith decides to cut straight to the point.

“So you think my face is gorgeous, huh?” He says, and Shiro’s ears immediately turn red.

“I-” Shiro starts. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Sorry.”

“For what?” Keith frowns.

“I don’t want to come off as a creep,” Shiro says, fumbling slightly with his words. “Like one of those weirdos that always harass people at their work. But yeah. Yeah I do.”

“You’re not creepy,” Keith replies. “Go out with me.”

“Thanks—what?” Shiro blinks. Keith leans in closer to his mic.

“Go out with me?” He repeats. “My shift ends at seven in the evening tomorrow. There’s a café two blocks away from here.”

Shiro nods faintly, and Keith’s grin widens. He pulls out a mini-bus schedule and scribbles his number on it, before sliding it through the tray to Shiro.

 

* * *

 

 

On the way to the café, Keith wonders if he should have texted Shiro directions. It’s not that far away, but Shiro’s proven time again his sense of direction is atrocious and Keith is mildly concerned that Shiro’s going to get lost. 

When he gets there, Shiro’s already at a table, frowning as he talks on the phone. Keith waves, and the crease in Shiro’s forehead softens. He rushes something into the phone and hangs up, smiling and waving at Keith.

Shiro’s still in his work clothes, and Keith’s wearing his cleanest pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. It’s not the most glamorous of date clothes, but Keith isn’t that glamorous a person—plus it’s just coffee, _and_ Shiro thinks Keith is gorgeous despite having only seen him in his work uniform. Keith’s sure it doesn’t get more authentic than that. Keith grabs a hot chocolate from the counter and joins Shiro, who’s sipping on a tall green tea.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” Keith asks and Shiro shakes his head. “I was going to text you the directions.”

“Nah,” Shiro replies with an easy smile. “I’m not _that_ bad with directions.”

They fall into an easy conversation, and it’s the easiest Keith’s ever had with anyone outside his friend circle. He learns that Shiro’s lofty position at a young age came through a lot of hard work, determination, and some form of luck with being in the right place at the right time. Shiro’s got two cats, strays that he picked up when he was in university, and a turtle.

Keith tells him his major, that he drives a 250cc Yamaha, that he rooms with he most annoying person on the planet, and that he’s got a dog he’s had to leave behind with his dad that he misses terribly. He tells him he’s been working his job since the summer of last year, and it’s infinitely better than his last job, which was working as a mascot at the local amusement park.

He’s adamant about not showing Shiro pictures, but Shiro searches up the park on his phone and finds a picture of Keith in a violently red lion costume, waving to the camera as he’s surrounded by kids. Keith dies a little on the inside, because Shiro sets it as his contact photo, but he gets over it within a few minutes.

It gets late, and Keith groans when his roommate texts him, asking him how to change the batteries in the fire detector because it won’t stop beeping. He texts back, telling him where the 9 volts are, and his roommate texts back, telling him he’s saved them the trouble and has just taken the detector out of the ceiling.

“I’ve got to go,” Keith says, burning a hole into the phone with his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you to the station?”

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, sliding on his suit jacket. “I drove.”

“Oh, you have a car?” Keith asks without thinking, tapping out a reply to his roommate. “How come you take the metro then?”

Shiro pauses, and Keith doesn’t notice till he looks up from his phone and sees Shiro slowly turning red. Keith looks at him, confused.

“What?” He says, and Shiro blinks, like he’s trying to formulate an answer.

“I…” Keith can visibly see Shiro searching for an answer. “Enjoy commuting?”

Keith narrows his eyes, and Shiro gulps.

“No one enjoys commuting,” he says and Shiro presses his lips together.

“Fine,” Shiro says finally. “I legitimately needed the metro the first time I walked in, because my car had broken down. And I needed the help, because I hadn’t taken public transit before.”

“The first time?” Keith prods, and Shiro looks a little embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Shiro says. "I wasn't going to an interview. I had a really important meeting, and I'm still in the first year of the job so I was freaking out a little."

Keith nods along, as if he can sympathize with working what is presumably a high stakes job.

“Every time after," Shiro continues. "I just showed up because I wanted to ask you out. But nerves got the better of me, so I’d ask something stupid instead.”

Keith has a hard time wrapping his head around how someone who looks like Shiro gets nervous around _Keith_ , but Keith bites down on any comments that threaten to spill out lest he sound too presumptuous.

“So you’re not that bad at directions?” Keith asks instead, voice flat. “Were you just stalking me?”

Shiro makes a spluttering noise, and Keith watches him flail for a few seconds before cracking a smile.

“Hey,” He says, nudging Shiro. “I said you weren’t a creep, didn’t I? It’s fine.”

Shiro lets out the breath he was holding, and looks slightly grateful.

After minimal wheedling on Keith’s end, Shiro ends up driving Keith home, and doesn’t say a word when Keith plugs his address into the car’s GPS. Keith notes that Shiro’s eyes never once go to the screen, and he teases him about it. They share an enthusiastic kiss in front of Keith’s building before Shiro sends him in, and it’s been the only time Keith’s been even marginally grateful to his job.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of days later, Keith comes in for an evening shift. There’s a small yellow envelope with his name on it sitting at his counter and Pidge informs him that it was dropped off by his “secret admirer”. He rolls his eyes but thanks her anyways, and when he opens it, a metro pass and a small note falls out. 

 _Guess I don’t need this anymore_ , it reads, and Keith tries not to look too pleased with himself as he tucks it into his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!  
> [thank you so much to ai for comissioning this lovely artwork for this fic!!! I appreciate it eyond words](https://koishiiorg.tumblr.com/post/181638571482/sheith-comic-zans-ticket-to-ride) <333  
>  
> 
> [come talk to me on tumblr](http://phaltu.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tagteamme)!!
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> process of making this fic:
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> me: sugar daddy au  
> also me: _but how would they meet_


End file.
